


My last day without you

by iwritesinsnotfluff



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, Other, death of a character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 02:32:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17174192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwritesinsnotfluff/pseuds/iwritesinsnotfluff
Summary: It had been days since you and Minho had spoken, and you were willing to leave every problem aside for him, for the sake of your relationship. But karma is a disgraceful bitch, and what was supposed to be a reconciliation night ended in tragedy.





	My last day without you

It was Minho’s birthday, and it was raining profusely. It was the worst storm in five years, according to the weather forecast. The deafening crash of thunders was making the house shake, and the fierce, howling wind was making it impossible to go out.

You were alone at the apartment, allowing yourself to drown in your loneliness and absently cleaning around the house, missing your boyfriend.

Minho had left days ago, slamming the door after a heated argument, and you two hadn’t spoken ever since. It was ironical, because you couldn’t even remember how it all had started; nonetheless, you were willing to forget about it, leave your pride aside and call him. You knew that, if it was your birthday, you would want him to call you despite any argument you had had, and that you would feel disappointed and bitter if he didn’t.

But even if you didn’t want to let the fight ruin the remaining of your relationship, you couldn’t get yourself to make the call. Instead, you went on cleaning the more-than-clean house, glancing at the phone every ten minutes.

It wasn’t until 5pm o’clock that you finally gathered the courage to grab the phone. Your heart was pounding furiously as you marked his number; your nerves were on edge as you patiently waited for him to pick up. You felt as if your life depended on that call, as if your whole world would collapse if he didn’t answer.

But he did, and you felt as if a rainbow spread through your heart, eclipsing the grey that had been occupying it since Minho had left.

“Y/N?” he asked, and you smiled at the sound of his voice, like he was expecting your call anxiously.

“Happy birthday!” you exclaimed with true happiness and love. “I’m sorry that I didn’t call earlier, I was… busy” you lied, “but anyways, I wanted to know if you wanted to have dinner with me… one of these days”

The other side of the line went silent, and you feared for a second that you had ruined it, that he didn’t want to see you and that you had imagined the relieved tone in his voice when he answered the phone.

It were the most nerve-wrecking seconds of your life, and you were about to take back your offer when he talked again.

“I would love to” he said, and you could almost hear the smile on his voice, which made you smile widely in return. “What do you think about today?” he then asked.

“Today?” you said, perplex, as looked outside of the window at the raging storm that threatened with make the entire building blow away. “But the storm…”

“Yes, I know. But I want to see you today.” You could hear the longing in his voice, and your heart skipped a bit as a burning love melted it.

“I… really want to see you too”

“Perfect, then. I will go to out apartment tonight, around eight. See you, babe”

Your heart skipped another beat when you heard him call you babe, after days of nothing but overwhelming silence between the two of you. You whispered an almost inaudible “Until tonight, babe” and then the line went completely silent.

You had a huge smile on your face when the call ended, and you spent the rest of the day hoping that he wouldn’t change his mind, that he would actually show up. You cleaned the house once more, even though it was almost shining from all the times you had cleaned it during the day, and, after cooking dinner, you started to get ready for Minho. You showered and put on your best clothes, some that he had bought you and you knew he loved you to wear, and even put on a little make-up to highlight the cat-like and seductive shape of your eyes. You sprayed some perfume on yourself as well, and after fixing your hair in an elegant way you sat on the sofa, waiting for him to arrive.

By the time he got there, your nervousness had transformed your twenty-years-old self into a middle school student all over again.

You heard the keys first, followed by the door opening and his footsteps entering the house. You stood up and walked towards the entry, tenser than you had ever been. And there he was, looking as breathtaking as always.

His black, silky hair was stylishly pulled back, accentuating his angel-like face, which had an anxious yet happy expression. He was wearing a simple white shirt and black pants, with the leather jacket you had bought him on his last birthday. The necklace you two had bought on your trip to Japan was the final element of his outfit, hanging over his shirt almost on purpose.

Your heart warmed up at the sight of it, and you automatically reached yours with your hand.

You were ecstatic, your heart was beating so fast it seemed to be pulled by racing horses. And you knew Minho was feeling the same way. You had always been able to read him like an open book, and you could see in his face that he had been as miserable as you had, and that he was just as relieved and thrilled to be together again.

You awkwardly said hello, none of you being brave enough to kiss or hug the other, and he entered the apartment. Both of you sat at the table and he praised your food as he always did. You talked about everything and nothing, about your friends and work, about life and death. The only thing you didn’t talk about was the argument that caused him to leave the apartment both of you shared, both of you too afraid to bring it up, not wanting to shatter the crystal wall that separated that night from fissure in your relationship.

Everything seemed to be fine again, everything seemed to be back to normal.

But it was all shattered in a second. A single comment ruined everything, breaking the pink bubble of illusion that had surrounded the kitchen.

“I think I’m going to come back.” He said, filling your heart with hope, but extinguishing that little flame by saying “I just have to go to my co-worker’s house to go pick up some of my stuff, I’ve been staying at their house”. It was almost as if he had said it intentionally, to see how you reacted. Staying with that co-worker that you despised so much and that made you insecure, and then talking to you about it.

Hell broke loose.

The screaming, the accusations, the hurtful words; it all started again. You shed yourselves to pieces until there was nothing left to be destroyed. Your hearts were left on the floor, crushed and devastated, full of sorrow.

There was nothing left to be said.

Minho and you stared at each other with a defeated expression, and the next thing you knew was that he was leaving once again, the loud bang of the door being the only thing he left behind, along with his broken heart, and taking yours with him in return.

You leaned against the wall and let yourself slowly slip to the floor. You absently watched the door, wishing he would return so you could talk about it calmly. Wishing he would come back so you could tell him you loved him and swear to him that you would forget about it all, for the sake of your love.

You drifted you gaze from the door, unable to keep looking at it once you understood he wouldn’t come back to you. Your watery eyes landed on the large box that leaned against the couch, and you slowly walked towards it. You hadn’t even been able to give him his present, that old guitar from the antiquities store he had been talking about for weeks.

You had bought it the day after the fight, hoping that you would be able to give it to him, wishing that everything would be fine by the time his birthday arrived.

How wrong you had been.

The storm had gotten worse since Minho had arrived, and you felt relieved that its raucous roar was strong enough to overshadow the sound of your laments. You allowed yourself to sink in your grieve before the sound of the rain lullabied you, and fell asleep around five in the morning.

You didn’t find out about the accident until the next day, when you turned on the TV and saw Minho’s car on the new, demolished and smashed against another one


End file.
